


The Office at the End of the Hall

by mechanicaljewel



Category: The Matrix (Movies)
Genre: Community: neo_ex_machina, Dubious Consent, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-28
Updated: 2004-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Matrix 1, Smith pays a visit to a certain hacker he has been monitoring</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Office at the End of the Hall

**Author's Note:**

> [Posted 8/28/12 and backdated. This was one of my very first fics and it's kind of embarrassing for me to read now, but I decided to post it anyway. From hereon down are the original author's notes and fic]
> 
> I've been working on this on and off since Revolutions came out, and I finally finished it. At least, as finished as I'm now willing to go; it's been edited and betaed over and over, and I think it's as good as it's going to get. Much love, thanks, kisses, and cookies to my wonderful beta crowdog66 aka Laurie. As always, comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated (especially for typos; nasty buggers always seem to get by). Oh, and feel free to play around in my little universe here; if it inspires you to write anything, I know everyone would love to read more Smith/Neo. :-}
> 
> This scenario actually came from some ideas I had for a post-Revs fic, but I realized it would be more appropriate to have it take place before the films’ timeline, with a few adjustments of course. And, yes the title comes from the office Neo runs to in M1, which is where the naughty bits take place. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Don’t own anything beyond the DVDs, soundtracks, comics, and that cool shirt I got on sale from Suncoast.

Smith was on monitoring duty tonight. Normally he hated monitoring duty, feeling that is was a useless waste of his time and skill, and should be reserved for inferior programs. But lately he had been doing it with quiet eagerness, sometimes on his free time or even requesting it.  
  
That was because of Thomas A. Anderson, his latest subject. He had found Mister Anderson in quite an ingenious manner, a fact in which Smith took great pride. One night, a few weeks back, Smith had been on monitoring duty, completely furious with it as usual. Of course he knew better than to complain; he didn’t want to be viewed as troublesome and thus a candidate for deletion. So he had gone the path of passive resistance, doing completely useless things that could still be regarded as work.   
  
On a whim, he had decided to check the account balance of the city’s DMV. He noticed that, while the balance in the DMV’s computers was even, the actual amount of money in the account did not match. Further investigation had shown that many parking tickets and the removal of several car boots had not actually been paid at all. What was more, all cases lived in the same apartment building.  
  
Another scan had shown that a program writer for a respectable software company lived there as well, a Mister Thomas A. Anderson. Intrigued by this man, Smith had requested monitoring duty for the rest of the week. A few days later, Smith knew he had found a real hacker, a potential escapee and rebel, when the scrolling green code revealed Mister Anderson making and selling some illegal software.  
  
So now, any chance he got, Smith watched Thomas Anderson. He learned Anderson’s alias of Neo. He discovered that Anderson had committed almost every computer crime in existence. Smith was impressed by his programming skills, second only to those of the A.I.s themselves. Smith felt sure that if he were to learn the language of the Matrix itself, Anderson could do almost anything. He kept files upon files of information of the man encrypted in his memory, letting out only a small amount in his reports to the Mainframe; he did not tell them his alias or of his skill. He didn’t know exactly why he was so— possessive, perhaps, of Mister Anderson. Whatever it was and whatever the reason, it came out full force tonight.  
  
Smith’s eyes were fixed on the screen, watching as Anderson began to doze off in front of his computer, as he often did. His computer was running a search for Morpheus. While this concerned Smith, it was to be expected of any skilled hacker. Thomas Anderson had searched for Morpheus many times since Smith had started watching him, but never with any fruitful results. This time would be no different, Smith supposed, until suddenly a new blip appeared on his screen.   
  
Morpheus was now also watching Neo.  
  
Rage such as Smith had never felt before coursed through him. Mister Anderson was his, he had found him first. Morpheus had no right to watch him, help him escape. The man was too skilled to work for humans; the Matrix would offer him more than anything Morpheus could. Granted, this was only the first time Morpheus had watched Neo…as far as Smith knew. The very thought made Smith formulate his plan almost instantly. He would not let Morpheus have this one.  


~ ~ ~

The next day, for the first time in almost a month, Smith took his free time off away from the Mainframe. He moved into a body not a block away from the Metacortex building. When he walked inside, he silently flashed a badge at the receptionist and made his way to the elevator.  
  
_Level 42_  the screen above the columns of buttons read when the elevator stopped. Smith stepped out and headed towards Anderson’s boss’s office. Mr. Rhinehart looked annoyed at first when Smith entered, but his expression sobered when Smith tossed the badge onto his desk.  
  
“I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Rhinehart, but I am afraid that I must speak to one of your employees, a Mister Thomas A. Anderson,” Smith stated and retrieved his badge.  
  
Rhinehart grunted and replied, “Now what has the useless bastard gotten himself into? It’s drugs, isn’t it? That’s why he’s late half the time and dragging around. If it weren’t for the fact that he can do a day’s worth of programming in an hour, I’d drop him, and even that won’t save him for much longer.”  
  
“I cannot tell you any more. But I need to have a private area in which to speak to him.”  
  
“Oh,” said Rhinehart, his face blank. “Yes, uh, there’s an office at the end of the hall, at the end of the row of cubicles.”  
  
“Thank you.” Smith said tersely, and left.  


~ ~ ~

“Come in, Mister Anderson,” Smith said, gesturing into the office as he held open the door. Thomas walked in, shaking slightly. He drummed his fingers nervously on the back of a chair facing the desk. Smith moved and stood in front of the desk, across from Thomas. “Have a seat, Mister Anderson,” Smith told him, gesturing to the chair in front of him.   
  
Thomas sat down in the chair and began fidgeting with the crease of his pants. Smith smirked patronizingly at him for a moment, and he then began scanning the code that made up Thomas’s mind. A quick scan, designed only to get a basic understanding of the personality; thousands of calculations, done in less than five seconds, giving the psychological equivalent of the mean, median, mode, and range.   
  
Smith was taken aback by what he found. To be sure, Mister Anderson was truly as weak and helpless as he seemed at the moment, but then there it was.  _Potential_ . Pure and terrifying potential, rumbling beneath the surface, like lava before a volcano erupts. Smith could almost feel it, pounding, more than he ever could have imagined, could have guessed.  
  
Thomas felt naked under the intense gaze of the Agent. God knew what this man knew about his other “career”. What else could he want? And here Thomas was with no way out, no way to run if need be. He just wanted this over with. He hazarded a quick glance. Averting his eyes did nothing for the image that was now burning in the back of his skull. The tall, serious-looking man stood menacingly over him. Each angle of his face overpowered Thomas’s every sense. It was a face that demanded respect and submission.  _I’m screwed_ . He took a deep breath.  
  
“So, uh, what can I do for you, Mister…uh…” Neo stumbled around the words.  
  
“Smith. Agent Smith, but Smith will suffice,” he answered. “And I need you,” he said leaning in, removing his sunglasses, “to be careful.”  
  
“Careful?” Neo asked the man now hovering a foot above him. “What do you mean?”  
  
Smith stood up straight again. “As you have probably deduced, we have become aware of your use, and misuse, of computers. With only a tenth of the information I have on you, they could put you away for many years.”  
  
Thomas’s pulsed raced, and he hung his head. This was the end, the absolute end.  
  
“However, they don’t have a tenth of the information I have on you. They barely have a tenth of a tenth. I’ve been—holding back on them, as the expression goes.”  
  
Thomas looked up, with a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. “Wait, so you haven’t come here to arrest me?”  
  
“No,” Smith stated. “No, indeed. I simply want to help you. You have an extraordinary command of programming languages, and while my colleagues disagree with me, I believe it would be unwise to make an enemy of you, Mister Anderson.”  
  
“Oh?” was all that Thomas could say. He was flattered, of course, and relieved, but he was still slightly drained. He could feel a bead of sweat forming at his temple.  
  
“I came here to inform you that I believe your life is in danger. You have certainly heard of Morpheus,” Smith paused to allow Thomas to nod slightly, as a formality. “Well, it has come to my attention that Morpheus has begun to monitor you as well.” Smith felt a surge of annoyance as Thomas jerked to full attention. He was not going to allow this one to escape, not from the Matrix, and especially not to Morpheus. “As you are also probably well aware, Morpheus is considered the most dangerous man alive. We can link him and his allies to at least 50 deaths a week, and numerous disappearances.”  
  
Thomas shifted slightly in his seat, and asked in a would-be casual voice, “Well, um…what do you think Morpheus wants with me?”  
  
Smith hesitated, his lips drawn thin. No matter what he said, he knew it would sound appealing to Mister Anderson. “Most likely, he wants you to join him.” Just as Smith suspected, Thomas’s expression changed to barely hidden excitement. “Now, though you may feel as if that is a great honor, I must tell you a few things. First, that Morpheus could potentially kill you if you refuse. If you accept, we will be forced to do so instead.”  
  
Thomas furrowed his brow. On the one hand he was certain he would accept Morpheus when and if it came to it, and he had no doubt that Smith was telling the truth about killing him if he did so; on the other hand, he couldn’t be sure If Smith was lying about Morpheus killing him over refusal, or if he could face himself if he did refuse the truth, the knowledge that Morpheus had. He looked up at Smith.  
  
“Do you know what the Matrix is?” he asked, throwing caution to the wind.  
  
Smith was taken aback. No plugged human had ever had the hubris to even think the word ‘Matrix’ around Agents. But he understood why Mister Anderson had asked, so he answered.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
A pause.  
  
“What is it, then? What is the Matrix?”  
  
“I cannot tell you, Mister Anderson,” Smith said evenly. “But I can tell you that we could offer you more than Morpheus and his band of terrorists ever could.” He leaned in till he was mere inches from Thomas’s face. Gazing into the human’s brown eyes, he continued, “I know your skill, I feel your potential. I told you before I thought it unwise to make an enemy of you. It is more than that: I do not  _want_  to make an enemy of you.” Smith felt himself getting warm: an unusual occurrence in an Agent. “I could train you to your fullest. What you could have, what even we cannot give you, if you joined us. If you joined me.”  
  
Thomas looked slightly confused. “Are you making an offer?”  
  
Smith’s hands found their way to Thomas’s shoulders. Thomas tensed, not knowing what to expect. The hands rubbed and kneaded the man’s flesh through his clothes. Thomas relaxed slightly and looked, expressionless, into Smith’s gaze. His eyelids began to droop slightly due to Smith’s massaging. Watching those lovely eyes struggle to stay open in the throes of a mild ecstasy, Smith gave into impulses he had never had before, not knowing where they were going. “Perhaps,” he replied. “Though nothing final, nothing permanent. Just what I can give you right now. A sample of what we could have.”  
  
Thomas made no sign of consent, but Smith understood it. Firmly grasping Thomas’s shoulders now, he lifted Thomas from the chair and then moved behind him. He shrugged off his jacket and tie and laid them neatly on the chair. He then pulled Thomas closer to him and removed his jacket, laying it next to his own. Smith leaned in to Thomas’s neck and inhaled deeply as he reached around to undo the man’s tie. Thomas was sweating. The smell. Smith was slightly startled and confused, though he didn’t let it show. He had never smelled anything before. Another new sensation. He breathed deep again; it was almost pleasant, and definitely arousing. After the knot was undone, he just let the tie hang around Thomas’s neck as he quickly moved to undoing the buttons on Thomas’s shirt.  
  
Thomas breathing grew shallower. He was half-numb, not sure what was going on, just knowing that it felt strangely right. He let out a slight gasp as Smith’s hands grazed his nipples for the first time, and he leaned back. Smith lightly kissed the back of his neck. Neo grunted softly and one arm snaked around his stomach, and another caressed his chest, rubbed his nipples as Smith deepened the kisses. A pinch sent a ripple down his spine as the first moan left his lips.  
  
When Thomas turned around to face Smith, Smith felt a moment of triumph. As Thomas kissed him and he kissed back, he knew Thomas was almost his, someone that not even Morpheus could take away. He reached up and held Thomas’s face as they kissed, their tongues intertwining. The man’s lips were soft, though slightly chapped at the corners. Smith lapped at the cracked skin and tasted the tangy bile that came out. Taste was new to him too. Thomas deepened the kiss and guided Smith’s tongue back into his mouth. When Smith pushed his tongue beneath Thomas’s and felt the blood pulsing through the vein there, he grew emboldened and wrapped his arms around Thomas and started to pull him in, but Thomas stopped him before being drawn in completely. Smith felt his tie being loosened, his shirt opened and Thomas’s cock growing hard against his own tumescence.  
  
The existence of his own organ had always intrigued Smith. He understood that Agents were designed to be human replicas, but he never thought that he would or could use it, and considered it superfluous. He was now glad to find the spare flesh did have a purpose for him, after all, as well as full knowledge of the copulation rituals and practices of every species on the planet.  
  
Smith began walking forward, pressing Thomas backward against the desk. Thomas pushed aside the nameplate and pens that were on it as Smith pushed him to sit, their lips never separating. When Smith finally broke the kiss, Thomas could feel his unwillingness in doing so. As it turned out, Smith had only broken the kiss to give himself enough room to fully remove Thomas’s shirt. Thomas promptly noticed at what a perfect level he was on and began to unbuckle Smith’s belt. He pulled Smith close so that when the pants came down, he was ready to welcome Smith’s member in his mouth.  
  
Smith hissed slightly as the warmth engulfed him, and slowly pressed further into Thomas’s mouth; the man was very accommodating. Thomas rubbed his tongue on the underside of the shaft and then began pulling back slowly, spiraling the tip of his tongue up the shaft until he reached the head. There, he suckled softly, gently, while he moved one hand from Smith’s hips to his balls, cupping and massaging them. His sexual experience was slight; not enough, he felt, to even define his own sexuality, but he knew what he liked, and what he would like to be done to him. He was glad Smith shared his tastes.  
  
The heat now rushed through Smith, and only intensified as Thomas began working up and down his cock, doing the most extraordinary things with his tongue while still playing with his balls. Shaking, Smith reached down to Thomas’s pants, opening the button and zipper, pushing down the pants and boxers as deftly as he could without interfering with Thomas’s ministrations. As he bent over slightly to lift Thomas up just enough to remove his pants, the man’s hair brushed his stomach, sending a jolt down his spine. When he straightened up, he buried his hands in Thomas’s hair, running his fingers through the silken locks as the head they were in moved rhythmically back and forth. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  
  
Then he realized that he probably wouldn’t last much longer like this, and he didn’t want to end here. Smith pulled himself from Thomas’s lips. Thomas, who had become entranced in the rhythm, continued rocking slightly. He guided Smith’s hand from his head to his mouth and began sucking Smith’s fingers, not missing a beat. Smith then pushed the man, still fellating his fingers, to lie down on the desk. Thomas hitched his legs around Smith’s hips, and Smith gently removed his fingers from Thomas’s mouth. He began running the tips of his moistened fingers around Thomas’s rim. When Thomas’s panting grew louder, Smith slowly slid both fingers in. Thomas forced his muscles to relax, and then he felt the gentle stretching coming from within. He looked at Smith’s face, willing him to make eye contact. Immediately, their eyes were locked and that was all it took.  
  
Smith slid his fingers out of Thomas and positioned his cock, still slightly wet from Thomas’s attentions, at the moistened opening. Smith pushed in slowly, he and Thomas both learning the feel of the other, adjusting to each other’s bodies. Smith paused once he was completely enveloped in Thomas, savoring the velvety heat. He slid back out slowly and locked Thomas’s gaze again. He nodded, responding to Smith’s silent message.  
  
Smith thrust back in sharply; Thomas shuddered from the slight pain, though he had known it was coming, but still he felt mostly pleasure from the invasion. Smith pulled out, thrust again, and again, quickening his pace each time. He leaned over and kissed Thomas on the chest, on the neck, on the cheek, on the lips, on the ear, all over, tasting him, and Thomas draped his arms over Smith’s neck, pulling him closer, urging him on.  
  
“You could have everything,” Smith groaned. “You could have this office. You could have the world. No one knows how powerful you could be, but I do. You could have it. With me, Neo, with me.”  
  
Thomas, delirious with desire only half-understood what Smith was saying, though none of it made much sense to him at all. But he heard Smith call him Neo. He suddenly loved the sound of his alias, and dreamed of a day when that would be the name everyone called him. Though for now, there was no greater thrill than to hear Smith say it.  
  
Thomas pulled Smith in for a kiss. They lay on the desk, obscenely entwined, their hips moving together in perfect rhythm, Thomas pressing in to Smith’s thrusts. Smith reached one hand down and grasped Thomas’s cock and began stroking it. Thomas threw his head back, breaking the kiss. After a couple sharp breaths, he determinedly found his way back to Smith’s lips. His back arched. It was nearing the end for the both of them.  
  
With one last thrust, press, pull, kiss, they came together and became whole together, come filling Thomas and emptying from him at the same time. Their codes glowed and swam together. Then Thomas collapsed back onto the desk, and Smith rested his torso on Thomas’s. Their eyes locked once more, ice blue meeting warm brown, and they kissed one long final time.  
  
Smith stood and inspected the scene. They were both sticky with come, and Thomas was sweaty. Smith began dressing, not worrying about his state. All traces of the mess would disappear when he moved to a new host. But Thomas, he knew, would have to try to discreetly wash himself in the men’s room sink, hoping against hope that no one would come in. Smith smiled to himself at the man’s misfortune.   
  
As he zipped up his pants, Thomas shakily began to stand. Smith smirked more as Thomas began to realize his position, grabbing some tissues from the box on the desk. Thomas felt Smith’s gaze on him and turned around to see Smith’s patronizing grin. He looked slightly embarrassed and gave a small smile back. Smith laughed inwardly at the human’s awkwardness.  
  
After Thomas had cleaned up as much as he could, put the desk back in order, and they both were dressed again, he looked at Smith.  
  
“Can I see you again?”  
  
Smith sighed. He had heard stories of emotional attachment developing during and after sex, he should have foreseen it happening here. The truth was, though, that Smith wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, but he knew that it would put both their lives in jeopardy. The Mainframe probably would not approve of his carrying on an affair, with a human no less.  
  
“Be careful what you wish for, Mister Anderson,” Smith answered. “I cannot assure you that our next meeting would be on our own terms, or completely safe. I have my duties, ones that put us on opposing sides. I cannot forget that.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Thomas said dejectedly, avoiding making eye contact. “I understand.”   
  
“Yes, well, I will not tell you how to live your life, but remember what I told you,” Smith stated blandly. “About Morpheus, about your potential. About what we can offer you.”  
  
“Right,” Thomas said listlessly.  
  
“Goodbye, Mister Anderson.” And he walked out the door.  


~ ~ ~

The man in the white suit turned away from the screen he had just been watching. He was shaking his head.  
  
“No, no, no. No good,” he muttered to himself.  
  
He turned back around. Two screens next to each other: one showed Thomas Anderson creeping back to his cubicle from the bathroom; the other showed Smith switch hosts and walk back towards the Mainframe. The Architect tapped his pen twice. Their memories of the past hour were gone, except a few traces that could not be gotten rid of without more invasive reprogramming. The traces seemed to form a faint link between the man and the machine. After analyzing the connection, the Architect thought plainly to himself,  _There’s one less thing to take care of_ .  
  
Because, for the first time, the One had chosen his Zero, his opposite, his negative, on his own, in the deepest way possible. What that would mean for the balance of the Matrix, the Architect could only guess.  
  
Elsewhere in the Matrix, the Oracle smiled, stood up, and pulled out her mixing bowls. She was going to need a lot of cookies in the coming months.  
  
_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yup, there it is. That’s the root of the wonderful subtext in which we revel. On another note, I call him Thomas most of the time because to me it seems that he’s Thomas until he’s freed, then he becomes Neo, and then when he’s shot and comes back to life he becomes The One. Yes I know I called him the One at the end, but keep in mind, that’s the Architect thinking.


End file.
